


Ending One: a sense of an ending

by grassle



Series: the desire And the spasm [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Crack, Lions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grassle/pseuds/grassle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The surprise!twist!dark!John ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ending One: a sense of an ending

“Sherlock? What are you doing? Stop it! Get out! Go back to your own bed!”

“It’s soiled,” replied Sherlock, sliding under John’s duvet and inching his way closer.

“Oh. Oh. Well, it’s been a traumatic day. You know, you should change the sheets as soon as possible, keep the mattress clean. Do you want me to help you?”

“Not that.”

“Oh! Oh, well, _that’s_ perfectly natural you know, in a healthy adult male. It just means–”

“Or that.”

There was a pause.

“And what’s wrong with the sofa?”

“Mycroft’s still on it,” lied Sherlock. “And his umbrella.”

There was a longer pause.

“Sherlock, are you _naked_?” John evidently found out for himself this was the case. “You can’t just take your clothes off and get into someone’s bed with them!”

“I got soaked through, John,” invented Sherlock. “I removed my wet clothes to prevent hypothermia. I’m freezing still.”

He took John’s silence and stillness for assent as he edged even closer, to close the gap between their bodies, and then draped a leg and an arm over John.

“Sherlock.”

“Yes.”

“You’re– ”

“Indeed.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d crawled in here for a fuck.”

“If you insist.” And Sherlock tightened his hold and wriggled. Not closer – that would be impossible. Just wriggled.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” John yanked himself away, removing Sherlock’s erm, insistence from between his arse cheeks with a _pop_ , and span round, furious. He threw himself on top of Sherlock, pinned his arms up over his head, and flattened Sherlock under the weight of his own body.

“Oh right. Stupid question. You’re Sherlock Holmes. Who thinks he can do whatever he pleases. Well, I’ve got news for you. You can’t just waltz into my fucking room and think you can force me to bottom for you in my own fucking bed!”

Sherlock, for once speechless, stared up into John’s face. He tried to heave John off him, but John simply tightened his hold and pressed harder, and at the feel of that hard, aroused strength on top of him, Sherlock stopped trying to get free.

“Now, if you’re interested in having that gorgeous arse of _yours_ spanked red-raw and then fucked through the mattress, we might just be on,” John continued, in a calm, flat voice.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something along the lines of “Meep?” or “Whaerrp?” and John used the opportunity to kiss him. Well, not kiss exactly, more like a full-on snog. No, too juvenile, to describe the way John grabbed his head, tilted it the way he wanted and simply _invaded_. No, that was too John’s Novel.

Or maybe it was just John, Sherlock thought, as best as he was able, after that fast, brutal ravaging of his mouth and the assault on his senses. John nipped sharp teeth and scraped his stubbled chin down Sherlock’s throat and neck. Then Sherlock felt John’s weight shift.

“Where are you going?” he gasped.

“Take a leak. And clean my teeth. You’ve cleaned yours,” replied John, and he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth in obvious appreciation. “Oh yeah–” And he bent his head once more.

“Oww! What the hell was that for?” Sherlock pressed his hand to the side of his neck where John had just sucked up and bitten a mouthful of his tender flesh, leaving it throbbing.

“Just marking my place. Don’t want to forget where I am and have to start again.” John stood and pulled off his T-shirt. “Get yourself ready when I’m gone. I’m not messing about with any more foreplay when I just want a hard and dirty fuck.” He jerked his head towards his bedside table.

Well! _Jake_ had never…

“Here. I’ll put some music on.” John hit the switch on the CD player. A beyond gobsmacked Sherlock realised John’s idea of ‘mood music’ was Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, if the smoky female voice yelling “Do you Wanna Touch” was any guide.

“Did you know I have a motto, Sherlock? It’s ‘the one excellent thing that can be learned from a lion is that whatever a man intends doing should be done by him with a whole-hearted and strenuous effort,”’ said John, stripping off his pyjama bottoms before he left the room.

Sherlock stared at the empty doorway, astounded, a bit scared and a lot turned on. Wait. _Lion?_ John didn’t know, couldn’t know that Sherlock had…could he? That would mean he’d…No, surely not…

Sherlock heard running water, and suddenly realised he’d better not only be waiting, but ready, when John returned. Maybe John would be pleased with him, then, and not spank him too hard. Unless Sherlock begged… He might even be on for a blowjob before John fucked him through the mattress… Lost in his fantasies, he didn’t notice John come back in, and John’s question startled him.

“Ready?”

“Ready when you are.”

John retrieved a object from behind his back.

“Fine. We’ll start with the riding crop.”


End file.
